PS: I Love Thee
by Maranni123
Summary: Spock manages to comfort his T'hy'la even when he's well within Death's grasp. Warning: Character death, K/S romance, sad stuff all around. Rated for language. Re-edited!
1. Chapter 1

P.S: I Love Thee

By: Maranni123

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Oh, editing is so much fun. :D So, I recently saw the movie "P.S: I Love You" again for the... millionth time, because for some reason, that movie is my sister's cure-all movie. So after watching that movie again, I thought that I'd polish up this little tidbit of angst and make it all pretty once again. :D So enjoy the edited version of the chapter and possibly look forward to a second chapter. Enjoy!

**(xXxXxXx)**

"Transporter Room to Sick Bay! Transporter Room to Sick Bay! Doctor McCoy! Hurry, we need help!"

Scotty was screaming for help, an ensign had already left the room in search of the doctor himself. Emerald green blood was streaming off the transporter pad in waves, staining the floor. Panic filled the room. And Jim could do nothing but hold his bond mate, his lover, in his arms as he watched the life fade from those gloriously dark eyes.

"Spock," Jim whispered softly, tears falling from his own baby blue eyes. He didn't even try to hold them in. "Spock?"

To Jim's surprise, Spock let out a soft sigh and smiled softly, blood falling from his lips. "J-Jim…" he whispered. "T'hy'la…"

Jim nodded, his hold on his dying First Officer growing tighter, as if he could simply hold Spock's life within him if he held onto the man hard enough. His heart skipped a beat as his hands briefly passed over the gaping hole in Spock's back where he'd been shot. "I'm here Spock," he managed to choke out through his tears. "I'm right here."

The bond between them was growing weaker and weaker with each passing second, but Jim refused to let it break. Holding onto every ounce of Spock's mind with his own, holding onto those beautiful, logical thoughts, sending Spock wave after wave of comfort and love and reassurance, Jim tried to hold down his growing terror, not wanting Spock to know how afraid he really was. _'You're going to be find Spock, okay?'_

Another wave of love, as strong and as bright as Jim could muster. _'Please. Just hold on,'_ he pleaded. _'Bones will be here soon, okay? Just hold on.'_

Spock chuckled through the link that the two shared. It was the only time Jim ever got to hear Spock's laughter. _'Jim,'_ he thought fondly. '_I love you. Forgive me…'_ Jim wasn't able to hold down his fear any longer and with a desperate moan, he pressed his lips to Spock's, staining them green.

The bond was fading and fading fast, with Jim being unable to stop it. _'No Spock, no!'_

McCoy burst into the Transporter Room, the door barely having enough time to slid open for the doctor and the two medical assistants following him. McCoy cursed as he saw Jim and Spock on the transporter pad, both laying in a large pool of Spock's blood. Instantly, he was shouting out orders, but Jim couldn't hear him. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge the doctor's presence. The Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise was too busy focusing on keeping his bond between his First Officer and lover open.

_'Stay with me Spock,'_ he all but demanded. _'Stay with me. Please, just stay with me.'_ Spock chuckled again through the link and Jim let out a small wail as two gentle yet firm hands grabbed him and started to pull him away from Spock.

"No, no," he shouted, bucking against those damn hands that were holding him back. "Let me go! Please! Spock! Spock!"

The bond, Jim could see it breaking! He could see his soul, intertwined with Spock's katra, starting to stretch away. Jim had always been awed and humbled by the bond, by the way his own soul, bright and shining gold, was wrapped in and secured in Spock's own gloriously strong and comforting silver katra. But now, as Spock was dying, he could see and feel their souls starting to lose hold on each other. With each passing second, another thread holding the two together snapped and Jim let out another cry as he felt Spock's heart start to seize.

_'T'hy'la…'_ Spock thought desperately, straining to concentrate. _'In our quarters… in a small box… near the shelves…'_ Spock let out a soft cry of pain, cutting himself off. Jim joined him in his cry. McCoy was screaming, ordering the nurses, get him a stretcher damn it! A sob tore through Jim's throat and his body tensed as the last thread holding Spock to him snapped. From the transporter pad, Spock's eyes flew open and his body froze.

_'Jim!'_

A searing wave of pain like nothing he had ever felt before hit Jim like a phaser to the chest as the bond snapped with a sickening crack.

'No…'

And in an instant, Jim was utterly and completely alone. Spock was dead.

_'SPOCK!'_ "SPOCK!"

There was nothing there, nothing! It was empty! Spock was gone! No, he can't be gone! No! Everything was a blur. Jim couldn't focus on anything. Colors were moving and flashing across Jim's eyes, making him dizzy. Sounds and screaming and crying. Who was crying? Oh, it was him. It was too fast, everything was moving too fast.

"Damn it! Don't you die on me Spock!" Vaguely, Jim heard McCoy's voice cut through the chaos in his head. "I don't have a heartbeat!" the doctor screamed. "Where is that fucking stretcher?"

"Captain?"

He needed to leave. Jim needed to leave. Spock, oh God, where was Spock? That body on the transporter pad, that couldn't be him. That body was dead, empty. Spock was alive. He was alive. He had to be alive.

"Captain! Jim, stay with me lad!"

Scotty was holding him, keeping him in the Transporter Room. Didn't he understand that Jim had to leave? He had to find Spock!

"Clear!"

A shocking noise and the body on the transporter pad jerked upward with a sickening twist, then went still. Jim heard McCoy curse loudly. "Clear," he screamed again, his face taunt with stress.

Another shock, another jerk and still the body showed no signs of life.

"I said clear, God damn it!"

Shock, jerk, silence. No life. Dead. Silence. Silence. Silence. Why is it so quiet? Jim's eyes were shut tight. He didn't want to see that lifeless body.

"Jim…" McCoy whispered suddenly, his voice so soft now. What a drastic change, screams to whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jim let out a wail and broke free from Scotty grasp. He needed to find Spock! Where was Spock? He had to find Spock, he had to get out of that room! So, without a second glance, Jim bolted.

"Jim," he heard McCoy cry. But Jim was already gone.

**(xXxXxXx)**

Jim wasn't sure how he managed to find his way out of the Transporter Room and out into the hall. He wasn't sure of anything. Dimly, he could hear the gasps of horror as crew members saw his emerald stain uniform and his tearful, blood-shot eyes as he flew pass them, but he didn't care. He had to get to their quarters.

He, Spock, he couldn't be dead. No, that body wasn't Spock's body, it couldn't be. Spock was fine, he had to be. Jim would reach his quarters, the doors would slid open and Spock would be there, whole and okay and without any holes in his body and without the pool of blood and Spock would ask him why he was covered in blood and would hold him and tell him that everything was alright, that his fears were illogical and he was fine, see? He was fine!

But when Jim finally reached his quarters and when the door finally slid open, Spock wasn't there. Their quarters were empty. He wasn't there. Stumbling into the room with a sob, Jim fell to his knees.

"Spock," he cried out. Silence filled the room. God, Jim hated the silence. But Spock loved it when it was quiet. Jim sobbed again and tore of his shirt, throwing it away into a corner and leaving him in his standard black undershirt.

"Spock," he cried out again through the empty room. "Spock, answer me, please!"

The only thing that answered Jim was that damn silence. In a last, desperate attempt to contact his mate, Jim reached out towards the bond that the two shared.

Expecting to feel Spock's cool and logical thoughts and hidden emotions that he only ever shared with him, Jim jerked up in horrible surprise when he was greeted by absolutely nothing. Nothing. No thoughts, no emotions, nothing. The bond was broken, torn, ripped in two. Spock's mind, his soul, his heart, was gone. Spock was gone. Dead. Jim let out a wail of grief and fell completely onto the floor, curling his body into the fetal position as more tears fell from his eyes.

"Spock," he cried out softly, tears pouring from his eyes. Spock… was dead.

Jim would never see him again, would never feel his warm touch, would never hear his voice. Never again. They would never play chess together ever again. They would never get to beam down to unknown planets together anymore. Everything was gone now. Jim let out another cry and with a choked sob, he realized that his last words to Spock weren't "I love you". Dear God, he didn't tell Spock how much he loved him before he died! Jim moaned and his body curled into itself even tighter.

Oh God, the grief, the pain, it was too much. Too much for Jim. He couldn't handle it, not now. Please, not right now. Make it go away! Spock, please come back and make it go away. Jim couldn't handle it. So, in a desperate attempt to save his own sanity, Jim's badly damaged mind ordered a complete shut down. His body went limp. Curled up on the floor, his own tears soaking his blond hair, Spock's emerald blood still on his hands and his lips, Jim's eyes closed and his brain shut down. Then, Jim let out one last soft sob as he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**(xXxXxXx)**

When Jim woke up, he could feel a warm hand running through his hair softly. Starting from the top of his head, warm fingers traveled downward to the nap of his neck, tousling his hair up slightly, nails scratching gently against his scalp as they reached his neck. Then, the fingers were lifted and then placed back at the top of his head, ready to start their journey all over again.

Jim let out a content sigh and he stretched out his legs, a tad cramped from sleeping on the floor, curled up into a ball. 'What a horrible dream,' Jim mused softly. He couldn't feel Spock's thoughts or his presence through their bond, but that was normal for Spock in the mornings.

"Jim?" The southern accent caused Jim to frown softly, his eyes still closed and his head still foggy.

Spock didn't have a southern accent. Spock's voice was deeper, richer, like silk. This voice was rough, as if the person had been screaming. Jim shifted again on the floor and the hand on his head disappeared as he managed to open his eyes slowly.

"Spock?" he asked softly.

His own voice surprised Jim as well. It was just as scratchy as the other voice. A sad chuckle reached his ears and Jim looked up to see McCoy staring down at him with red, puffy eyes. The doctor had been crying.

"I'm sorry Jim," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I'm not Spock."

Jim's frown deepened and he raised his head to look around Spock's and his quarters. There was no sign of his Vulcan. Jim looked back to McCoy. "Bones, where's Spock?" he asked, his voice still rough.

McCoy flinched and placed a hand on Jim's shoulders. "Jim…" the old country doctor said with some hesitation. "Spock is dead."

Jim's breath hitched and tears started to form in his eyes. Memories started to resurface, the fog of sleep that had been holding them back fading as reality settled back in. But he wouldn't let them win without a fight. He let out a weak laugh.

"That sure was a close call, huh?" he chuckled, his body starting to shiver. "With all the blood that he lost, I'm surprised Spock isn't dead!" Jim smiled a shaky smile, his eyes pleading to McCoy to just play along, for his own sake. "When can I visit him in Sick Bay Bones?"

McCoy's eyes filled with tears as well and as he shook his head, they managed to escape him. "Jim," he pressed gently. "Spock didn't make it. He's dead."

Jim let out a small sob and went limp, his baby blue eyes locked onto McCoy's face, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I-I know," he whispered. "I know Bones. He's dead. Spock's dead." More tears fell. "But can't we just pretend for a minute that he's not dead? That he's okay?"

Feeling his heart start to break into a million pieces, McCoy shook his head slowly, his grip on Jim's shoulder tightened. "Jim", he whispered. "Darlin' you know we can't do that."

Jim let out another wet and breathless chuckle. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

McCoy bit his lip softly. He wanted to comfort his best friend, he really did. But how could he? What could he possibly say right now that would make all of Jim's pain go away? He couldn't say anything. There was nothing he could say.

So, feeling absolutely helpless as Jim continued to weep softly, McCoy could only cry along side him. "God, Jim," he wept quietly, raising a hand to his face in despair. "I'm so sorry."

Jim shook his head. He didn't want to hear it, he couldn't hear it, not now. Not now. "Bones," Jim whispered again. "S-Spock, he… I can't feel him anymore. H-He's gone."

McCoy nodded and he raised his hand to run in through Jim's hair again. "I know darlin'," he said. "I know."

Letting out another sob, Jim clenched his fists together. "It wasn't suppose to happen this way Bones," Jim whispered, his voice filled with a sudden rage. "The people, the Meoieties, they were suppose to be a peaceful people! We were suppose to be safe there!"

McCoy nodded again. "I know Jim," he said softly. "And they were peaceful, in the beginning."

Jim shut his eyes, wishing that his tears would just stop but knowing that they never would.

"Peaceful," he hissed. "Peaceful until they saw Spock's ears. Then the High mother-fucking priest had to take it upon himself to 'drive the devil' out of my First Officer by shooting a fucking hole into his back! It's because of them that Spock's gone! Because of them, Spock is dead!"

Jim's fists were clenched together so tightly that his nails were being driven into his own skin, pearls of ruby red blood dropping onto his floor.

McCoy was silent as he watched Jim seethe over his rage at the Meoiet people, his eye as a doctor pointing out to him that Jim was working himself sick. Chest heaving, tears streaming down his face, his fists clenched together, the rage dripping from his words like poison, McCoy could see that Jim was extremely compromised at the moment, though it wasn't at all a surprise. Jim had just lost his bond mate after all. He had every right to completely lose it. But as his doctor and his best friend, McCoy wouldn't allow him to work himself sick. So, while he continued to run his hand through Jim's hair, McCoy reached over with his free hand to the small medical bag he brought and pulled out a small hypo, already set to put Jim straight to sleep.

"Jim," he crooned softly, giving his best friend a final scratch on the head before he gently administered the hypo to the man's neck. "I'm not going to lose you too, okay? Even if you refuse to take care of yourself, I'll always be here."

Jim didn't speak as he felt the hypo against his skin, but before his eyes closed, he managed to look over to McCoy and give the weary doctor one final glance before he was lost again to the dark.

**(xXxXxXx)**

The next time Jim woke up, he was in his bed, warm in his blankets, and alone. McCoy wasn't there. As his eyes opened slowly, tears already poised to start flowing down his cheeks, Jim tried once again to contact Spock through their now broken bond. Reaching out, Jim smiled sadly when he was met with nothing again, absolutely nothing. Resting his head on his now tear-soaked pillow, Jim reached over and gently ran his hand over onto the side of the bed that Spock normally slept on.

Not bothering to even attempt to stop his tears, Jim's hand grabbed onto Spock's pillow and brought it back over to Jim. Holding onto the pillow like a small child holding onto a cherished teddy bear, Jim buried his face into the pillow and sighed softly, Spock's scent wrapping around him like an embrace. God, how was he going to survive without Spock? How could he gone on without his Spock by his side? Without Spock, he was nothing. He was lost without him. There was no reason left for him anymore.

Unwillingly, Jim's mind brought up his last moments with Spock, letting out a small sob as Spock's last words replayed in his head.

_'T'hy'la… in our quarters… in a small box… near the shelves…'_

Jim bit his lip and looked up from Spock's pillow and over to the rows of shelves that they had placed on the wall when Spock had first moved into their quarters. On the three small shelves were a few of Spock and Jim's personal items. A few family photos on Spock's part, a picture of his mother, a picture of Jim's father, more than a few pictures of them together and a few knickknacks from the shore leaves that they had spent together.

Jim hiccuped softly as his eyes ran over the shelves but gave a small start of surprised when he noticed a small box nestled in between the photo of Amanda and the photo of George. Jim stared at the small box for a moment before he buried his head back into Spock's pillow. Did he really want to get up? What was the point of moving, of living, if Spock wasn't alive to live with him? Jim considered on ignoring the box altogether and just remaining in the bed until he finally withered away. But he knew that he couldn't. Despite his own natural curiosity, Jim knew that he couldn't ignore the box. With his last wave of consciousness, Spock had urged him to find the box. Jim couldn't go against Spock's last wish.

So, with more that a little bit of effort, Jim managed to lift himself up into a sitting position in his bed. Noticing that his clothes had been changed into his sleeping attire, Jim almost smiled at his best friend's actions.

'Bones,' he thought dimly. God, he was lucky to have that man as his best friend. Glancing over to the box again, Jim slowly swung his legs over and when his feet connected to the floor, Jim almost crawled back into the bed. But he didn't.

Instead, Jim slowly got up to his feet. Tears still falling at a steady pace, Jim slowly shuffled over to the selves. It was difficult to move. It was as if he was being weighed down by invisible weights and when Jim did finally reach the shelves, it took him a full minute to gather up the energy and the will to lift his arm up and pull the small box from its hiding place. The box itself wasn't especially exciting. It was made from a dark wood but it lacked any decorative carvings or design. As Jim slowly made his way back towards the bed, box in hand, he wondered briefly about what might be inside. The box had weight to it which meant that something was defiantly inside, but it wasn't heavy. Jim's curiosity grew slightly and even managed to overcome his grief for a single moment, his tears ceasing for the time being, as he sat back down onto the bed and placed the box in his lap.

Jim stared at the box for a moment, debating on opening it. What could be inside? Why had Spock been so insistent that he find this box? Jim had to know. So, after taking a deep breath, Jim slowly lifted the lid of the box and looked inside. What he found surprised him.

Letters. A lot of letters. All neatly packed in small white envelops, the box was full of dozens of letters, all stacked up together. Jim's heart skipped a beat as he looked down at the first envelop, titled "To my T'hy'la", and he immediately recognized Spock's neat and precise handwriting. Slowly, Jim lifted a hand and carefully ran it over the top of the letter, his tears starting to flow once again.

Who knew one human was possible of crying so much? Gingerly, his hands shaking, Jim lifted the first envelop from the box and slowly opened it, pulling out the letter that was waiting for him inside. Jim let out a small sob as he gently unfolded the letter, his breath hitching as he saw Spock's handwriting. Curious beyond belief, Jim began to read the letter, trying to hold in his tears so that he didn't damage the letter.

_My Dearest T'hy'la,_

_If you are reading this, then you are still alive and I am no longer of the living world. I have passed away. My sweet Jim, do not grieve for me. Do not grieve for my death. You and I were both aware of the dangers and the risks of serving aboard the Enterprise. We were both aware of the high chances of our deaths. I regret only one thing concerning my death and it is that my time with you, dearest T'hy'la, has been cut short. Though as I write this, I am uncertain of when and how my death will play out, I can only hope that you are safe and unharmed._

The young captain let out a small sob and bit his lip to keep from crying out again.

"Y-Yes," he whispered, clutching the letter to his chest. "I'm safe Spock. I'm not okay, you pointy-eared bastard but I'm safe. They didn't hurt me, you made sure of that." Jim sobbed again and raised his free hand to his eyes. "You always made sure that I was safe every time we beamed down."

He was still for a moment as his tears fell. He almost felt like laughing. This was just like Spock. Always prepared for anything. Even his own death. Finally, once Jim was sure that his tears weren't in a position to reach the letter, he removed his hand from his eyes and began to read once again.

_Jim, I know that despite my pleas, you will grieve. It is natural for beings to morn for loved ones gone. But Jim, I implore you, do not shut your still living loved ones away to morn my death. No doubt, Doctor McCoy has offered you comfort and if you have not accepted his offer, I must ask that you do. You do not grieve well on your own, T'hy'la. You blame yourself for such loses and tend to hide within yourself. And now, I am no longer present to bring you back. Accept the comfort the Doctor and the other members of the crew offer Jim. Do not grieve alone._

Jim stopped reading again and looked over to his bed.

'Bones,' he thought again sadly. Jim really was lucky to have such a good friend. He really was lucky to have the good old country doctor by his side. Next to Spock, McCoy was the most important person in Jim's life. Surprising himself, Jim felt a small smile grace his lips before he went back to reading the letter.

_Jim, I am gone. You have felt this because after I died, the bond between us was broken. You can no longer feel my presence in your mind. I know this will hurt and sadden you deeply T'hy'la and you will morn the bond as much as myself. But T'hy'la, despite my death, you still have much to live for. I am unsure as to the time of my death, as previously stated, but I am nearly positive that it will take place during the Enterprise's five year mission. Morn T'hy'la, if you must, but do not die. Do not try to follow me into the unknown. Do not live as a mere shell, taking extreme risks and awaiting death. Live Jim. I am gone but you are still alive. Live. Complete the five year mission. Lead the Enterprise. Discover new planets and races. Live Jim. Do not let my death stop you from the rest of your years. Live._

Even as he read the words, Jim was shaking his head. "Spock," he whispered to himself. "I can't live without you. I can't."

Silence filled the room as Jim sat on his bed, the letter held ever so gently in his hand, tears flowing from his baby blues. He couldn't live without Spock, it was impossible. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Finally, Jim took in a shaky breath and smiled down at the letter ever so slightly.

"But I'll try," he whispered again, not feeling one bit foolish for talking really into thin air. "For you, I'll try. I promise."

Jim couldn't live without Spock. But that wouldn't stop him from trying, if only for Spock. With his mind set, more or less, Jim continued to read the letter.

_T'hy'la, these letters are my own way of comforting you even after my death. Each letter is one day apart, so read one every day and please do not read ahead, if you can Jim. As I am writing this first letter, you are currently asleep behind me, wrapped in our blankets despite the fact that you have changed the temperature to my liking. You are beautiful. Know this Jim, that every moment I spent with you were the best moments of my life. I do not regret loving you, though I do regret not showing you my affections enough. You are starting to wake Jim, so I will end this letter here. I love you T'hy'la. Keep these letters close to your heart and know that you will always have me, the body, in mind and in soul, my dearest Jim._

_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular T'hy'la,_

_S'chn T'gai Spock_

_P.S: I love thee_

Jim sobbed and held the letter to his heart gently, tenderly, making sure that his tears couldn't reach it.

"I love you too Spock," he cried out softly. "I love you too and I promise, I'll try. I will."

Shaking slightly, the letter pressed to his chest, Jim allowed himself a few more moment of simply holding on to the precious piece of paper, before he slowly brought it away from his chest and placed it back into its envelop. Carefully and slowly, Jim lowered the letter back into the small box and closed the lid, a small whisper of a smile on his face.

"I promise," he whispered as he pressed a tender kiss on the top of the box. "I'll try. For you Spock, I'll try."

**(xXxXxXx)**

Inside his office, Bones let out a long and weary sigh as he took another swig of his whiskey. Today had been hell. Absolute hell. For everyone. Spock, the First Officer of the Enterprise, was dead. Eyes a bright red from his own tears, McCoy ran a hand through his hair with another sigh. Everyone was feeling the pain of Spock's death. No one aboard wasn't mourning. Hell, most of the crew members were wearing black and few were refusing to leave their quarters altogether.

But the main crew was having the hardest time. When told the horrible news, Uhura had broken down in sobs right there on the bridge. Sulu and Chekov had merely sat there, eyes wide and unbelieving and Scotty was currently holed up in the Engineering room, no doubt drinking himself into a coma in an attempt to block out the pain. McCoy couldn't blame him because he was trying to do the exact same thing. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his pain paled in comparison to the pain Jim must have been feeling.

McCoy wasn't sure how the young man could keep breathing after the events of today. After he'd put Jim to sleep and into bed, McCoy had done his duty as CMO of the Enterprise, and as Spock's friend, and had gathered up Spock's body from the transporter pad. He'd cleaned the body thoroughly, wiping away the blood and as of now, the body was currently waiting for the funeral that they all would eventually have to deal with. McCoy wasn't sure if Jim would be able to handle the funeral. If McCoy knew anything about his best friend, he knew that Jim didn't grieve well, alone or with others.

And though Jim should have been awake by now seeing that the hypo he'd given earlier wasn't that strong, McCoy wasn't surprised to see that Jim hadn't come down to see him. That was the usual Kirk way to deal with a loss. Jim would no doubt hold himself up in his quarters until shift, then work himself to the point where he'd be ready to pass out. Then, after someone forced him to go rest, he'd go back to holding himself up in his quarters. It was the same cycle every time.

So to say that McCoy was surprised when his door slid open to reveal Jim's slumped and crying form was a massive understatement. McCoy was up on his feet in an instant, his eyes wide.

"Jim," he said breathlessly.

Jim looked up over to his best friend, his eyes full of tears and grief so strong, it brought tears to the country doctor's eyes.

"Bones," the grief-stricken man whispered, before he launched himself into the room and into his best friend's arms, sobbing loudly as he poured out his seemingly endless wave of sadness and grief.

Though McCoy was surprised, his arms automatically wrapped themselves around the sobbing man and pulled him close, offering to him all the comfort that he had. Though he wasn't sure what had brought Jim down to him, McCoy was thankful none-the-less that Jim was breaking the Kirk cycle. Now, Jim had someone to lean on as he mourned the loss of his lover, his friend, his mate.

His Spock.

**(xXxXxXx)**

A/N: Still can't believe that I killed Spock. So sad. :D I love it on a sick, weird level. Good night everyone!


	2. Chapter 2

P.S: I Love Thee

By: Maranni123

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Well, I told myself that I wouldn't write a follow up on this. But then, apparently getting bored with my little case of writer's block, my Muse grabbed my brain and smashed it into the Creativity Wall. :D So, here's the follow up to the first chapter. A little lighter this time, although still a bit angst-filled. :D Enjoy!

P.S: "Consuming Fire" will be finished. Rest assure that I am working on it. This was simply sitting in my laptop so I decided to post it. I will finish all of my projects. And the first chapter has been re-edited, so before you read this, go back and read chapter one. :D Thank you.

**(xXxXxXx)**

All was quiet night aboard the U.S.S Enterprise. A rarity, the comfortable peace that embraced the ship and her crew, but a welcomed rarity nonetheless. All to often, sleep and relaxation were interrupted by an attack or an emergency mission. But not tonight. Tonight, it seemed, the universe had decided to give the Enterprise and her crew a well deserved break, allowing everyone to rest, recover, and to simply relax.

The majority of the crew were either asleep, lost in dream land, or resting in their private quarters. It was a time for trivial pleasures. Reading, writing, an extra long shower or bath. Simple things, but important. Some were in the mess hall, enjoying a quiet late-night meal with friends and co-workers. Some were in the rec room, sparring lightly with each other or taking a swim in the pool. Even the night crew up aboard in the bridge were relaxed conversing softly with each other while always keeping an eye out for an alert or an attack.

Aboard the U.S.S Enterprise, all was quiet and calm. Everyone was relaxed and at peace. It was near perfection. And one crew member in particular was taking the rare moment of peace to once again indulge himself in a personal pleasure that no one, save for the ship's doctor and communication's officer, was aware of.

The lights were dimmed down low in the Captain's quarters and the room was filled with the scents of vanilla and cinnamon. The usual scents that followed Vulcan meditation. Candles were placed in certain areas, adding to the already comforting glow. Taking in a deep breath, the smallest of smiles on his face, James T. Kirk settled himself onto his bed with a soft sigh as the familiar scents enveloped him.

Legs crossed, a pillow draped delicately across his knees, dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants, the Captain of the U.S.S Enterprise reached over and grabbed a ordinary looking wooden box, pulling it close with careful hands. Inside were a large bundle of letters, three hundred and sixty-five to be exact. All written with the careful hands of a lover. Tears started to swell up in Jim's eyes, as they always did when the box was brought out from it's normal resting place on Jim's desk. But they weren't exactly tears of sadness. They were a mixture of happiness and grief.

Gently, as gently as one lover to another, Jim reached inside and pulled the letters out, carefully arranging them into two separate bundles on the bed before him. Pausing for a moment to give the smaller bundle of letters a fond glance, Jim then turned his attention to the first letter seated atop the larger bundle. Letter one hundred and twenty seven.

Jim sighed softly, more tears gathering in his eyes, before he tenderly touched his lips to the soft paper of the envelope. In his chest, his heart ached.

It had been exactly one hundred and twenty seven days since Commander Spock, First Officer of the U.S.S Enterprise and bond mate to James T. Kirk, had died. It had been a horrible accident. While on an away mission to a planet called Meoie II, Spock had been shot clean threw by the planet's high priest, mistaken for the devil thanks to his pointed ears. They had managed to get him back aboard the ship, but then he had died on the transporter pad.

Doctor McCoy had tried to revive him, the nurses present could all remember the crazed shine in his eyes as he tried to save the commander's life, but it wasn't meant to be.

Jim shivered softly as he held the letter in his hands. Still to this day, Jim had a hard time transporting anywhere. Even simply going into the transporter room caused him to nearly burst into tears. And for awhile, he had done just that. Many times. For awhile, Jim had cried every time he came across something that reminded him of Spock. Anything could have set him off.

The transporter room, the science labs, any Vulcan they met or passed by, even the color green. For awhile, everything seemed to cause Jim to burst into tears, the wounds left by Spock's death still fresh and festering. Still now, he could feel his heart aching from simply holding onto one of the letters that Spock had wrote him.

The funeral on New Vulcan had been the hardest. Jim had nearly jumped of one of the many cliffs that covered the desert planet in his grief, only the comforting presence of McCoy, Spock's counter part Selek, and surprisingly Sarek keeping him semi-grounded.

But he was getting better. It is true that time heals all wounds. And although Jim knew that his wounds would never be completely healed, he knew that one day, he would be able to think of Spock without tears. He would one day be able to use the transporter pad without flinching. He would one day be able to visit the science labs without feeling that terrible ache in his chest.

Those letters, they were what had kept Jim sane during the dark times. Sure, McCoy and the crew had helped him as well, offering him their support and comfort. But the letters. The letters written by Spock himself in the even that he did die before his bond mate, they were what kept him from simply giving up and doing something reckless to join his bond mate on the other side.

So, shaking away the thoughts of before and letting the soft calm once again fill him with peace, Jim carefully opened the envelope and pulled the cream colored letter out. Shifting into a more comfortable position on the bed, resting the letter on the pillow draped across his knees, Jim wiped away the last of the tears in his eyes before he settled down to read.

_My Dearest T'hy'la,_

_As I am writing this, I am sitting beside your bed here in Sick Bay. You are asleep, no doubt from the pain medication given to you by Doctor McCoy. While I am still doubtful in his bedside manner, he has allowed me to stay by your side for an extended amount of time. Although I highly doubt that he would have forced me away from you if he had attempt to do so._

Jim couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him at the beginning of the letter. Even in letter form, even in death, Spock managed to make him smile and laugh. Something that had become rather difficult for some. 'Bones will get a kick out of hearing about this,' Jim thought absent mindedly. McCoy had never actually seen the letters, Jim allowed no one else to touch them, but Jim often shared with him what snippets he had read that involved the doctor.

Sharing those small little things with McCoy had saved their friendship during the dark months. Jim had always had a hard time sharing his feelings and being open with other, unless he was drunk or high with fever, but with the help of those letters, Jim had finally learned to open up more to his best friend, allowing their already strong friendship to grow even more.

Still smiling and planning on visiting McCoy in Sick Bay tomorrow before his shift, Jim continued to read.

_You are most likely trying to determine which of your many stays in Sick Bay I am referring to Jim. Rest assure, this nightly visit is not due to an attack or an accident here aboard the ship. Thankfully, this visit is causing by yet another allergic reaction on your part. It seems that your allergy towards the common hazelnut has manifested to include the sacred desert of the Tibolean tribe. While we were partaking in the ceremonial end of the meal, you began to experience a high fever and inflammation and swelling of your throat._

At this, Jim's smile grew wider as he finally recalled the incident Spock was referring to. They had been invited to a ceremonial dinner on the planet Tibolea, a thankful gesture from the ruling tribe for the Enterprise's aid with the famine that had struck the planet merely months before. Jim could remember working with Spock, Sulu, and the other scientist in the science labs to discover the reason for the plant dead on the planet.

They had later discovered a fungus similar to the one that hit Tarsus IV was destroying the crops and the crew was quick to deliver the cure to the planet. To show their thanks, the tribe had offered them a meal. And yet, Jim had managed to find trouble. He could remember comparing the ice cream like desert to the taste of hazelnuts but he never could have imagined that it would have started up his allergies.

Jim chuckled at the memory of the tribe's horrified expressions and Uhura's attempts to explain to them that Jim was going to be fine and that they hadn't murdered him. He also remembered Spock carrying him to Sick Bay and McCoy's rage at Jim's oblivious nature. His grin grew and remained in place as he read on.

_Doctor McCoy assures me that you will recover quickly, that I delivered you with time to spare. He assured me that you will be 'back to your old trouble-making self'. I am perfectly aware of the fact that you will recover with no side-effects. Yet, I am unable to rid myself of the concern that continues to weigh down in my side. We have grown so close T'hy'la, that I am unashamed of this confession, for I know that you will never judge me as others have. _

_I was frightened for you Jim. When I felt your worry and fear through our bond, I feel no shame in admitting that my very heart ceased to beat for a moment in time. I was frightened T'hy'la. I understand that you could not have know that the dessert would have such a reaction to your allergies. And while you will deny it, I feel guilty over the fact that I did not check the meal over as I normally would. I had merely assumed that it would be safe, seeing as you had made it through the entire meal without incident. _

_Rest assure Jim that I will from now on check over all of your meals that are not aboard the Enterprise. No doubt you will become annoyed at my hovering, but I will remain steadfast. I will not allow your body to injure itself. However, despite your tendency to unconsciously endanger yourself, I find that I would not have you changed. Indeed, I love you as you are Jim, faults and all, as I know you love me._

And there were the tears again. Jim's smile dimmed slightly as he read Spock's careful handwriting, his blue eyes shining with the tears that he refused to let spill. Spock had always been so concerned about his allergies, making sure that every unknown meal was checked over by either himself or McCoy before he allowed Jim to try it.

Sometimes, it annoyed Jim that he simply couldn't try something new, that he simply couldn't just pop whatever it was into his mouth like everyone else. And admittedly, Spock's constant checking over his food had sometimes gotten on his nerves. But that annoyance was always pushed aside for love. Because all Jim had to do was remember why Spock had been so adamant in checking over new foods for him to try.

Spock had cared for Jim. Spock had loved Jim. And Jim would always take that in consideration every time his bond mate had pulled a plate of unknown food away from him, tricorder in hand. Spock had cared for Jim enough to go through every little thing that entered his mouth. Jim's heart warmed with the memories of his bond mate even as a tear managed to escape him and make its way down his cheek.

_I love you Jim, T'hy'la. I do not doubt that, now that I am gone, the doctor has continued to check over your meals away from the Enterprise. It pleases me to know that you will be in capable hands when I am departed. That you will always have the support of the doctor and the crew is an immense relief, for I would have been able to leave you peacefully without that knowledge._

_You are starting to fidget in your sleep T'hy'la. You are becoming restless. Know this T'hy'la, that even now, you are a most beautiful sight. I will end this letter here and offer you comfort. I find it pleasing to know that my touch can calm you even when you sleep. As always, know that I love you Jim and know that you will always have me, in body, in mind and in soul._

_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular T'hy'la,_

_S'chn T'gai Spock_

_P.S: I love thee_

Still smiling, eyes still shining from unshed tears, Jim let out a soft sigh as he finished letter number one hundred and twenty seven. Another day without Spock had passed. Another nightly letter written by his dead bond mate. Another night of morning.

Carefully placing the letter back in its envelope and putting all of the letter back in their home, the plain wooden box, Jim finally allowed a few tears to slip down his face. He missed Spock. He missed Spock with everything he had. Even now, one hundred and twenty seven days after Spock's death, Jim's heart and soul were still grieving, still crying out for that part of Jim that had died along side Spock.

Wiping away his tears, Jim took in a deep breath. For a moment, he simply sat there, taking in the scent of the candles around him, taking in the peace and quiet. For a moment, time stood still for James T. Kirk. Then, slowly, Jim smiled again. He missed Spock. But he had also promised his bond mate that he would live. That he would go on.

So he would. Taking the box from the bed and returning it to where it sat everyday on top of Jim's desk, Jim couldn't shake the small, content smile on his lips. And he didn't want to. He was still morning, would probably be morning for the rest of his life. But he was happy. His crew was safe and healthy. He had his best friend and friends by his side. And he would always have Spock with him, through those letters.

Jim was happy and content with life. So, wandering over to the replicators in his quarters, Jim ordered a cup of spiced Vulcan tea and retreated back to his bedroom. Before he did so however, he blew out the candles carefully before he stopped by the closet and pulled out the only remaining article of Spock's clothing that he had decided to keep.

After the first month, Jim had painstakingly gone through their closet, discarding all of Spock clothing and sending it to Sarek on New Vulcan. It had hurt, but it had also needed to be done. But there was one article of clothing that Jim had saved. One thing that he couldn't send away.

Taking out the black meditation robe from the closet and wrapping it around himself, Jim sighed again as the familiar fabric embraced him. Taking his tea over with him to his bed, Jim made himself comfortable, no longer feeling that the bed was empty with only him in it. Taking a sip of the tea and then placing it upon the bedside table, Jim let his body sink down further into the pillows.

Smiling softly to himself, Jim felt his eyelids start to grow heavy with sleep. And instead of fighting it, fighting to stay awake, Jim let himself be carried off into dream land along with the rest of the majority of the crew.

No longer did he have nightmares of Spock's death. No longer did he dream of his bond mate's blood or the pain of their bond dissolving. No, now all that met Jim was peaceful darkness, restful sleep and the warm presence of something, someone, out there beyond his reach, content to watch over his life as it waited for him.

**(xXxXxXx)**

A/N: Okay, I'm finally done with this. :D I hope that you all have enjoyed the second and last chapter of "P.S: I Love Thee". I had honestly forgotten that I had this written and I'm actually a little excited about posting it. If you enjoyed it, then review! If you didn't enjoy it, then review! :D Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Good night everyone!


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